


Big Pretzel Team Exercise Drabbles

by fannishliss



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabbles, Gen, Team Exercise, big pretzel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-16 21:28:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1362370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fannishliss/pseuds/fannishliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Various drabbles that have to do with movement for Big Pretzel's Diet and Exercise challenge.</p><p>http://spn-bigpretzel.livejournal.com/632210.html</p>
            </blockquote>





	Big Pretzel Team Exercise Drabbles

**Author's Note:**

> Some of these drabbles were written to Rory's Story Cubes: Actions version.

Drabbles for Team Exercise  
  
Camelot  
Part 1:  Swordplay!  
Dean braced his foot against the boulder, gripping the hilt of the sword.  He’d tried this once before — but hey, different day, different sword.    
He gave a mighty pull and the sword easily slipped free with a quiet metallic “shing!”  
Dean’s jaw dropped. The sword in his hand was nicely balanced and glinted as he made a few cuts through the air.    
Dean thrust to the right, to the left, parried, twirled, and did a deep lunge.  
Just then Sam walked in.  “What are you doing?”  
“I, uh.  I pulled it from the stone.”  
“This isn’t Camelot, Dean,” Sam said.  
  
Part 2:  Dispelling Spirits!  
 “It’s a haunted theme restaurant,” Sam said.  
Dean made several smaller swishes.  The blade still looked fine and felt great.    
“I bet this thing would take an edge,” he muttered.    
“It’s only a model!” Sam scoffed.  
“Behind you!” Dean yelled, dispelling the spirit with a mighty slash of the blade.  
The spirit had been wearing a dress they recognized from a mannequin near the entrance.  Dean banished it several more times with the sword before the mannequin and the dress went up in flames.    
“I’m totally keeping this,” Dean said, daring Sam to scoff.  
“Dude, you earned it,” Sam said.    
  
  
Enthusiastic Agreement  
“Absolutely!” Dean agreed, slapping his thigh to show he meant business.    
Sam just rolled his eyes.  “This bunker may be impenetrable, but it’s not safe.  The stuff inside it is way too deadly. You have to agree with me?”  
“What you said, Sammy.” Dean nodded violently, eyes wide with emphasis.    
“It was a statue – like an idol or something?”  
“Yes. Yes, it was.” Dean made eye contact with Sam, staring at him with absolute sincerity.  
“Okay, that narrows it down to restricted rooms I, Idols, F, Fetishes, and S, Statuary.”  
“Fetishes!” Dean clapped his hands together enthusiastically.  “Let’s get started!”  
  
Catch and Release    
“How is this a sport?” Dean asked, leaning back.  
“There were many magazines about it at the convenience store,” Castiel said. “Certain species of fish are most desirable, and of those fish, the largest are considered trophies. One’s catch is weighed and measured, and then sometimes the fish are released.”  
“You go to all that trouble and then you let it go? I don’t get it.”  
“Ha,” Castiel laughed.  
“What?”  
“I caught you and let you go.  A worthwhile endeavor.”  
Dean blushed, but smiled. The bloat floated, birds sang, a mild wind blew. It was a perfect day for fishing.    
   
Blowing things up!  
Dean learned quickly with proper motivation.  
He knew silver’s melting point, iron’s properties, ozone’s odor, sulfur’s texture, and how to saturate salt water.  
He’d read that Lex Luthor could blow up his prison walls using the ink in his pen and the adhesive in his notepad. Dean was no evil super genius, but advanced placement chemistry seemed like a good place to start.     
After Dean turned eighteen, he may not have graduated, but he aced his AP in chemistry, and there was a field with a crater in it.  Pieces of sod rained down on Dean’s victory dance.  Good times.      
  
Digging up a crossroads  
“Doesn’t it make you think of REM?” Garth asked.  
“Rapid eye movement?” Sam asked.  
“Really evil mermaids?” Dean hazarded.  
“No, their song!  ‘Stand in the place where you work, now face west, think about direction, wonder why you haven’t before.”  
Garth began doing some type of retro song and dance that involved his hips gyrating, arms swinging, a little kick and a hop twist.  
“Sometimes,” Sam said to Dean, “I can almost go along with your rule of no music from later than 1983.”  
“Yup,” Dean said. They went back to digging.  
Garth danced on, hopping to the four directions.    
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AKKqLl_ZEEY&feature=kp  
  
Chin-ups  
“Chin-ups, Dean,” Sam insisted.  “The basic move no Hunter should be without.”  
“I freaking hate chin-ups,” Dean grumbled, glaring at the bar.  
“Remember the last time you were defenestrated?”  
“No!” Dean complained.    
“Thrown out a window,” Sam sighed, “and I had to haul you back in.  Plus the last two times you were thrown off a bridge.  And that time with the catwalk in the haunted theater…”  
“All right, all right,” Dean grumbled.  Just because Sam was the chin-up queen didn’t mean anything.  
“One,” he gasped.  “Two.”    
“No, Dean, your feet have to be off the ground.”  “Sam!” Dean whined.  
  
toss and catch  
“Just scratch right there, yeah!” It felt so good to have his back scratched that Dean’s leg gave a little involuntary kick.  
“Ah, this water is so cold! Refreshing!” Dean tipped the glass back, spilling it all over himself, but he didn’t care.    
“Just toss it – dang!” Sam tossed the keys and they slid across the cement floor, Dean happily skidding after them, smiling as he came up with them looped on his finger.    
“Meat!  Meat and gravy!  It sure doesn’t get better than this!” Dean said, chowing down.    
Dean wasn’t a dog any more, but certain side effects remained.    
  
Falling  
Dean was lured into the gym by the sound of Sam apparently having a fight with himself.    
“Oof!” he heard, along with the unmistakable sound of Gigantor hitting the mat.  
A minute later he heard it again and had to check it out.  
“What the heck are you doing?” Dean asked Sam.  
“I’m practicing falls,” Sam said, picking himself up. “The more skilled you are at falling, the less you get hurt.”  
“If you don’t want to get hurt falling, you should try staying on your feet,” Dean grinned.    
Sam launched himself at Dean to try out the practical applications.       
  
Rubbing two sticks together  
Dean hated camping for many reasons:  
1, Tents don’t keep out monsters.  
2, Everything in the woods at night sounds like a monster.  
3, If it’s not a monster, it’s a bear, and it still wants to eat you.  
Another reason to hate camping was that you had to carry everything. And beer is really heavy.    
Campfires were the one thing he kind of liked: they were warm, scared off bears, and could provide flaming brands for self-defense.    
That is, when the kindling was dry and so were the matches.  
Rubbing two sticks together was an awful lot of work.  
  
Going door to door  
Dean enjoyed interviewing people.  He liked the challenge of asking leading questions, but maybe not too leading.  Often folks would offer him a drink or a cookie.  He got to park his Baby right on the street, where people could admire her as he walked from house to house.  Plus you could tell a lot about the houses from the outside.  Sometimes finding the right place was as simple as the herb garden, or the scratches on a lintel.    
Dean’s badges may have been all fake, but when he canvassed a neighborhood, he knew he truly was a great detective.    
  
Splitting firewood  
“A log this big won’t fit in the fireplace.  Split pieces burn easier.  This here’s the maul.  Hit it with the hammer, and it splits apart the log.  You don’t really use a hatchet if you’re doing very much.”    
Dean soaked it all in.    
“Now you try.”  
Dean picked up the hammer, weighed it in his hands.  He was pretty strong from shoveling.  He hefted it, and hit the maul square.  The big log split cleanly in two.  
“Great work!” Bobby said.  “Perfect for the fireplace!”  
Dean couldn’t wait for the cozy fire, fed with logs he’d split himself.    
  
Hauling Gold  
Finding a dragon’s hoard was the best thing ever.   Piles and piles of gold, in small, easy to pawn pieces.  Better than winning the lottery, because you got it all at once.  
Until they tried to move it.  Gold was freaking heavy.  They loaded their pockets, but a full duffel was way too heavy.  It took dozens of trips to get all the gold. Even the Impala couldn’t carry it all. They had to get a storage unit.  But hey, they could afford that now  -- and they could afford the massage therapy they needed after hauling all that gold.    
  
Going the Distance  
He’d never understood before how big the bunker really was. The trip to the kitchen seemed like it took forever.  He practically needed to camp overnight on the way down the hall.  Finally he made it to the counter, and luckily Sam hadn’t put away all his lunch things yet.  He’d left out some bread and he hadn’t washed his peanut butter and jelly knife.  He’d never appreciated a pbj more in his life.  
Now he just needed to get Sam’s attention and undo the curse!  
Being the size of an ant really put a lot of things into perspective.  
  



End file.
